Gemotions

I sat on the edge of my bed, the worn leather of my coaching bag digging into my thigh. The house was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Across the room, I watched the shadows lengthen. Today, I'd cut Emily. I had to, but the sting felt fresh, raw. She was a good kid, a hard worker, but the team had to improve. I picked up a photograph of my own playing days, the team, my teammates, all smiling. It felt like another lifetime. This feeling was different, more isolating. The phone buzzed, and I flinched. Another call, another round of the same conversation.